


Wedding Crash

by orphan_account



Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, M/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 12:05:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6905734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendan knows that he should stay away from the wedding. He knows he should let Ste go. But staying away from Ste is one thing he's never been able to do... Another is to stand by while Steven gets hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Brendan stared into the mirror, head tilting slowly to the side as his eyes tracked the bead of water sliding down his nose, dripping onto his chest before trailing down his bare torso to disappear into the towel wrapped around his hips. He was an attractive man; he knew that. He had the Brady good looks - all pale skin, dark hair, and deep, soulful blue eyes. He was lean, but muscled enough in all of the right places to really fill out a suit. He’d caught the many appreciative glances thrown his way, from women and men alike, and he knew how to capitalize on them, to charm and flatter his way into more. Brendan knew that he was a good fuck, too; he had no illusions on that. He knew how to please a woman, even though his orgasms with them felt hollow and medical, and he had caused more than one previously-assumed heterosexual man to suddenly realize a broader spectrum of their sexuality. He knew how to leave a lover addicted, to keep them crawling back for more.

Yet, for all his pride and his abundance of willing bodies, Brendan knew that he was no catch. There was a darkness trapped within him. A devil, wrapped in human skin. It stared back at him in the mirror, it mocked him in the fear on Steven’s face whenever it broke free. He hurt the ones he loved because of that darkness - because beneath the alluring surface, he knew that he was gnarled and ugly. Seamus had made sure of that. He had squashed every ounce of self worth from Brendan, excised all ability to love from his heart before he was nine years old. It was because of Seamus, because of that darkness, that Brendan had lost the one thing that made his life a little bit brighter.

Brendan had never liked himself.

He had never hated himself so much.

Brendan pulled the stolen invitation from its hiding spot behind his mirror and sat heavily on his bed. His thumb stroked slowly over Steven’s name and the ache in his chest intensified.

He was getting married. In just a few short hours, Steven would be out of Brendan’s reach forever.

Father Des had told him to fight for love, for Steven. He had told him that love was a beautiful thing, something to cherished above all else. He had told him that the purity of love in God’s eyes far outweighed any perceived evils of homosexuality. Brendan was even inclined to believe him - he was going to hell; that had been decided long ago. But for someone as good as Steven to be condemned for openly and unashamedly admitting that he was gay? For his soul to be so tainted simply because he had once found pleasure in Brendan’s touch? The idea of it was unfathomable. Maybe love - even a love between two men - was something worth fighting for, but Brendan wasn’t sure that he deserved it.

Douglas could offer Steven safety - a future of happy families, holding hands in public, and all of the open affection that Steven’s big heart could long for. Brendan couldn’t give him anything like that. There was no happiness inside of Brendan, no more love to give beyond what he already had, and that had never been enough for Steven. He didn’t know how to give love without a dose of pain. Marriage to Douglas could shield Steven from the Simon Walkers and Danny Houstons of the world who tried to get to Brendan by going through the man he loved. Douglas would hide Steven away from them, he would keep him safe. Brendan could give Steven a life of constantly looking over his shoulder. Douglas could give him everything.

Steven and Cheryl were everything that mattered in his life. Chez was stuck with him, there was no going back for her. She would always be his baby sister, and she would always be a target. But Steven didn’t have to be. Cutting all ties to Steven would be the safest thing to do - let him get on with his life with Douglas, staying well out of his way. But leaving Steven… truly leaving him? Brendan didn’t know if he had the strength to walk away. Even when Steven had hated him, Brendan’s life was always brighter just by being near him. Steven made the world beautiful, and Brendan had become addicted to it, addicted to that surge of warmth within his chest whenever the younger man was near, teasing that it could be possible to chase away the darkness.

Steven was happy with Douglas. Of course he was. That was all that really mattered, wasn’t it? That he was safe and happy. Douglas would guarantee his safety. As soon as Brendan was permanently out of his life, Steven would be safe. And the lad had always been happier with the Yank than he had ever been with Brendan.

Just yesterday, however, Steven had come to him, upset and distracted. Moments later, Brendan had been cornered by an angry Douglas, telling him that it was over between he and Steven, that the wedding was off. Yet today, wedding bells were still ringing. Was it really what Steven wanted?

Cursing, Brendan balled up the invite and hurled it across the room. It bounced off of the wall and rolled innocently back to his feet. He gave a laugh that sounded more like a sob. A bit like a younger Steven, that wadded ball of paper was. Even with his abuse, it kept rolling back.

Brendan had promised Father Des that he would fight for Steven, tell him how he felt. He had meant to yesterday, he’d tried to, but then Steven was upset and he’d bottled it. And now he’d missed his chance. Steven was marrying Douglas, and though Brendan knew that the wedding would probably be the best thing for Steven, that knowledge didn’t loosen the ache in his chest as his heart tried to beat around a Steven-shaped hole. It didn’t silence the small voice in the back of his mind, the young child who hadn’t lost quite all of his hope and whispered if, maybe, Douglas wasn’t what Steven wanted at all. If, maybe, Steven could still find something worth loving in Brendan.

With a heavy sigh, Brendan combed his fingers through his damp hair and dropped his towel before climbing into his suit, wearing the crisp lines like armour. Such conjecture was pointless, now. Steven was marrying Douglas. Whether it made him happy or not, he was better off that way.

Opening his bedroom door swiftly to avoid the creaking hinges, Brendan looked around the living room and up the stairs for any sign of his sister. Coast clear, he snatched a biscuit from the jar by the oven before sneaking to the door.

“And just where do you think you’re off to at this hour?”

Brendan froze, hand on the latch. He cursed internally before turning to face his sister, affecting an expression of disinterest. She stood propped against the stair rail, fluffy bathrobe and all, with her hands on her hips.

“Just going for a walk,” he said evasively, “see the sights.” He stuffed the biscuit into his mouth whole.

“Right, and that’s why you’re sneaking around like a criminal in your own house,” Cheryl agreed blandly. “It’s only half six, there are no sights to see.” She sighed, coming fully down the stairs to grab Brendan by the shoulders. Steering him into a dining chair, she told him, “I’ll just pop some toast in. I’m not having you go round to Ste’s and terrorizing him or Doug on their wedding day.”

Brendan watched as Cheryl moved around the kitchen, plunking a coffee in front of him before slathering slices of toast with jam. He took a sip of the scalding coffee before wiping the resulting damp from his moustache. “Thought I might pop by the wedding later,” he said casually.

Cheryl turned to face him in disbelief. “Don’t you dare,” she said, waving the butter knife at him threateningly. A glob of jam fell from the tip to lie on the linoleum, gleaming and sticky. Brendan grimaced at it. “I know how hard this has all been on you, but you can’t go getting yourself into a state and ruining Ste and Doug’s wedding day!”

“It’ll be fine,” Brendan protested, his arms thrown wide in innocence. Cheryl gave him a dry look, eyebrows raised. “ Look, I won’t even go in. I just have to -”

“So you’re planning to lurk outside the venue like a sad puppy?” she placed a plate of toast before him as she sank into the chair opposite with her own. “This isn’t healthy. You have to let him go, babe.”

Sighing heavily through his nose, Brendan flicked his eyes in her direction before resolutely fixing his gaze on the opposite wall. His sister’s eyes were large and full of pity as she watched him - a look that she directed towards him all too frequently, these days. It made Brendan ache just to see it; the loss that had been bubbling under the surface for months felt like a fresh sting every time he saw her eyes wet and shining with sympathy. “I won’t cause any problems for him,” he swore. “I won’t drink, I won’t speak to him, he won’t even know I was there. I just have to see him. I have to know that he’s happy.”

Cheryl reached out to take Brendan’s hand, ignoring her brother’s warning glare. “He _is_ happy,” she said earnestly. “Doug is good to him. You should’ve seen Ste planning the wedding, throwing out his ideas. He was so excited, Bren.”

Brendan swallowed tightly and threw Cheryl a fleeting smile of acknowledgement. He wished that he could have seen that - Steven’s eyes bright and glowing, his long limbs a hazard as he flailed them about with excited energy. If he closed his eyes, he could almost see it. Only, in his mind, it was himself sitting next to Steven and watching him with an small, pleased smile. Not Douglas. Even if he were able to walk proudly through the streets and announce that he was gay for all of the world to hear, free of shame, he knew that was one fantasy that could never be.

“He’s moved on,” Cheryl continued, “and it’s time for you to do the same, love. This isn’t fair on either of yis.”

Brendan rubbed at the creases in his forehead, wishing away the building headache. “I know,” he agreed blandly. At Cheryl’s skeptical look, he repeated, “I _know_. Call it ‘closure’, if that makes it easier to stomach. I just have to see him.”

Cheryl gave him a warning glower before conceding gracelessly. “Fine. But just so’s you know, I’m coming with you. If you know what’s good for you, you won’t try and stop me.” She jabbed a finger at his nose sternly.

Huffing a dry laugh, Brendan nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Shut up and eat your toast.”

~x~

The wedding was a nightmare. Granted, it was probably a lovely ceremony, but standing there and watching as Steven walked down the aisle, moments away from committing his life to Douglas… Cheryl clung tightly to his elbow, refusing to let go, but her attempt at a supportive grip just made everything else around him feel like it was spinning.

Steven looked beautiful, even with he and Douglas in their stupid coordinating suits and ties. His smile lit up his whole face as he walked forwards with deliberately measured steps. Brendan had to smile at the way his trousers sagged low on his arse, his boxers hidden from sight only by the valiant attempt his shirt made to remain tucked in - the sight was so painfully _Steven_ that Brendan _ached_. He wanted so badly to be the one standing in Douglas’s place, that when Steven reached the front of the room, he would be the one whom he stood by, smiled at, joined hands with.

He must have made an involuntary sway forwards because Cheryl’s hand tightened on his arm as she tugged him back with a warning, though sympathetic, look. Brendan stood straighter and clamped down on his heart.

There was no place for a man like him in a life like that.

Steven reached the front of the room, slipping his hand into Douglas’s with a dazzling smile. He made it look so easy, to stand before a room filled with people and hold his lover’s hand. It hurt, to see the evidence before him that Steven was so much better off with Douglas, without Brendan in his life to make him afraid and ashamed. Brendan had to look away, closing his eyes against the sudden flood of self-contempt.

“Unto this holiest day, these persons present now come to be joined,” the minister called from the alter, her voice ringing out clearly even where Brendan and Cheryl stood outside of the building. “If any person can show just cause why they should not be joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

Brendan swallowed and looked up, and suddenly his eyes were meeting Steven’s. The boy looked almost pleading, his eyes large and hopeful, his mouth tilted in a subtle pout. Wishing Brendan to stay silent, to leave it alone? Or…?

Suddenly, Brendan _knew_ . He knew that the wedding was all a test, that Steven _wanted_  him to stop it - that Steven wanted _him_. This one gesture, a single word from him, and everything would be alright between them, Steven would have all of the proof he needed that Brendan cared, that Brendan wanted him, too. It would be so easy -

Just like Noah, Douglas was a test of Brendan’s commitment to him. Steven had never intended for it to get this far, but that was Brendan’s fault. He should have stopped it sooner, he should have -

A soft noise sounded in his chest and he gave a small lurch forwards, moving heart-first before his feet had agreed. Cheryl’s grip grew punishingly tight. Her nails bit into his suit.

“Don’t you dare, Brendan Brady,” she growled under her breath. “You swore to me that you wouldn’t ruin this for them.”

Brendan yanked his arm free, but he was too late. The moment had already passed and they were saying their vows.

Cheryl cuffed him round the head. “Have you lost your mind?” she demanded. “What were you thinking? Ste would’ve never forgiven you.”

Fuck,” he cursed quietly. He had almost… It scared him, what one look from Steven could make him do. The enormity of it terrified him. He used to have better control than that.

He listened as Douglas said his vows, promising to love Steven always, to cherish him and stand by him always. He needed to hear that so badly. He had to know, had to hear Douglas _swear_. But then Steven was stepping forwards to say his piece.

The ringing in Brendan’s ears grew to deafening levels. He couldn’t listen to Steven swear his life away. He couldn’t listen to him vow to love and cherish Douglas, and only Douglas, for all of his days. His head was pounding, his vision blurring. He couldn’t take it anymore. This had been a mistake. Chez was right, he shouldn’t have come.

Offering Cheryl a single conciliatory pat on the shoulder, Brendan turned away and headed down the drive. He didn’t need to see them exchanging rings. He didn’t need to watch the chaste kiss that would follow, sealing their lives, hearts, and souls together. There was no point. He had to get out, he had to get away, the air was so heavy, it was closing in, he couldn’t breathe, he had to -

“Bren?”

The moment broke. He turned to see that Cheryl had trailed a few steps after him. He sighed. “Chez.”

“Are you running again?” Her voice was so small. She looked lost.

Brendan swiped a hand over his moustache, staring down the road before looking back to his baby sister. “I can’t stay here,” he admitted finally. “I’ll make him be with me, ye know I will. He’s a married man, now. I have to do right by him, and by God.”

Cheryl sighed. She glanced down the road and then back at the wedding, where Brendan could hear polite clapping. His heart twisted. “Okay,” Cheryl nodded, full of saddened understanding. “I’m going to go and offer my congratulations. You, mister, are staying put until I get back, aren’t you.” It was an order, not a question, and Brendan huffed a quiet laugh, acknowledging it as such.

“Okay,” he echoed with a small, genuine smile. He watched her disappear into the Orangery before turning to rest his elbows against the fence. He stared out across the fields, soothing the ache in his chest with the knowledge that soon, he would be seeing his boys in Ireland. He said again, to himself, “okay.”

~x~

Ste stood by the window, nursing his drink as he took in the tense line of Brendan’s back and the way Cheryl leant towards him, her expression earnest. As Cheryl turned to enter the reception, Ste downed the remainder of his champagne in one swig, ditching the glass on a nearby table as he hurried to her side.

“Ste!” Cheryl gathered him into one of her suffocating hugs. “It was a beautiful ceremony, I’m so happy for yis!”

“Ta,” Ste said with a smile that he knew didn’t quite meet his eyes. He nodded out the window, “How is he?”

Cheryl sighed, casting an unreadable glance towards her brother before locking her arm in Ste’s and pulling him away from the window. “As well as can be expected, I suppose,” she admitted quietly. “You know what it’s like better than anyone; you watched your Doug almost marry someone else. I imagine it’s a bit rougher than that was for our Brendan, seeing how he knows yous two are the real deal.”

Ste swallowed, unable to meet her gaze. “Right.” Watching Doug planning his wedding with Leanne had been crushing, even knowing that the wedding wasn’t real and that it was his own idea. It had been hard enough to watch that sham of a wedding play out; Ste had fallen into a depression for weeks, watching the man he loved just pretending to marry someone else. He knew that Brendan was still in love with him - as much as Brendan Brady could ever love anyone. He was all too familiar with that kind of pain.

“I tried to talk him out of coming today,” Cheryl said, “but you know what he’s like. Stubborn as a mule, that one. Anyways, he’s promised to be on his best behaviour, so don’t you be worrying after him.”

“Right,” Ste said again, his eyes on the tense lines of Brendan’s back. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel the rolling of those muscles beneath his hands as Brendan moved against him, over him, within him. He blinked rapidly, tearing his gaze away. “You will make sure he’s alright, though, won’t you?”

“‘Course I will,” Cheryl said brightly. “But enough about my brother - biggest day of your life, yeah? You must be buzzing!”

Guilt tugged at Ste. He was newly married, he should be celebrating with his husband, not fretting over his ex. “Yeah,” he agreed distantly, “buzzing.”

“Uh-oh!” Cheryl laughed, “here comes trouble!”

Ste turned to see Doug making his way through the crowd towards them, his cheeks flushed pink and eyes shining, though Ste couldn’t say if it was more from joy or from drink.

“Ste!” he said brightly, planting a sloppy kiss on his new husband’s cheek. “We did it!”

“You two take good care of each other, you hear?” Cheryl grinned and drowned the both of them in an enormous bear hug. The blue fur from her coat stuck to Ste’s lips and tickled his nose. “I’m so happy for yis both,” she patted them each on the cheek before slipping through the crowd. A moment later, Ste saw her crossing the road towards her brother.

“What’s he doing here?” Doug scowled, following Ste’s gaze to Brendan.

“It’s his sister’s first big gig as a wedding planner, innit?” Ste rolled his eyes. He was sick of Doug’s animosity towards Brendan. “He’s just being supportive.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure he’d be just as keen to get involved if it was anyone else getting married,” Doug snarked.

“He stayed outside,” Ste protested, “He’s not got involved at all!”

Doug gave a mocking slow clap. “And once again, Ste comes to the defence of Brendan Brady.”

“Oi, I married you, didn’t I? How much bigger a gesture do you need that I chose you? Me and him, it’s over, right? Has been for months. He’s out of our lives, so just leave it.”

Raising his eyebrows, Doug gave a sardonic nod. “Touchy subject for you, isn’t he?” he said dryly.

“For me?” Ste spat in disbelief. “You’re the one who can’t leave him alone. He didn’t even come in! He’s here for Cheryl, not for me.”

“And that just tears you up inside, doesn’t it, that you had to go ahead and marry me because your first choice didn’t have the balls to stop you.”

Ste recoiled from the venom in Doug’s voice. “What? That’s madness, that is. I chose you!”

Doug shook his head, his eyes moistening. “Is it mad, Ste? Because I saw you - how you were practically begging him to step in. If Cheryl hadn’t held him back, would we even be married right now?”

“You’re drunk,” Ste said weakly. He didn’t know how to refute Doug’s accusations, not when a small voice in the back of his head whispered that they were all true. He loved Doug. He did. But Brendan was everything to him. He had never loved nor hated anyone so much as he both loved and hated Brendan Brady. “I don’t want to fight about him,” Ste said. “Not today.”

“We are fighting about him, though, aren’t we?” Doug countered. He didn’t sound angry anymore, he just sounded tired. “And we’ll just keep fighting about him, because you’re never going to be out from under his shadow. You’ll never be over him. We’ll be fighting about Brendan Brady for the rest of our lives.”

With a stilted laugh, Ste shook his head. “I thought I was free of him once before, you know. And who dragged me right back? You did.”

“Ste…”

“No,” he threw up his hands, fending off Doug’s pleading reach. “You know what, I’m done with this today. Have you still got my phone? I’m calling a cab.” He fished in Doug’s pockets, triumphantly retrieving the object in question.

“No, Ste,” Doug panicked, realizing what he was about to find, “Wait -”

“Come home after your little party with all your little friends and your little insecurities, if you want,” Ste sneered, “I don’t…” He drifted off, staring at the saved voice recording open on the phone’s screen. “What’s this?” He gave Doug a confused look, taking in his frightened expression.

“Look, I was going to tell you about -”

Ste pressed play and lifted the phone to his ear, cutting Doug off.

Brendan’s gravelly voice echoed through the device, masked by the chatter and laughter in the room, but it was unmistakably him. “...how I battered Danny Houston to death? I killed him. _F_ _or_ _Steven_. For your husband to merely be. Would you do that, Dougie? Would ye kill for him?”

Rage flared through Ste, white-hot and swamping the horror of _Doug knows_ . Doug had promised to leave Brendan well enough alone, yet here was the evidence. Doug had gone after Brendan, was still - _still_ \- trying to get him locked up, even after Ste had caught Doug plotting with that policewoman. He was sick of it, all the lies and the betrayals. Brendan, Noah, Doug - would he ever find a man whom he could trust?

“Ste -”

“No!” Ste shoved his pleading hands away. “You swore that this would stop. Did you learn nothing after Walker?”

“Wait, please, if you’d just let me -”

“There’s nothing more you need to say,” Ste said coldly. “That answered just about everything. Looks like it’s over before it’s even begun, Doug, doesn’t it?” He stormed out without another word, leaving his new husband teary-eyed behind him.

After calling the cab, he rested outside, taking a minute to lean against the cool brick and clear his head. Brendan and Cheryl still stood by the fence, their backs to him. Brendan spoke with short, jerky movements while Cheryl leaned close, murmuring lowly to him. They seemed unaware of his presence.

Not too far away, Leah was sitting in the grass, picking at a flower. Several strands of hair had come loose from her braid and there were green stains at the knees of her white tights. He could see Lucas in the field, entertaining himself by running in circles as fast as he could. A small smile curled Ste’s lips as he watched them play. He might have ruined things with both Doug and Brendan, but at least he would always have his children.

In the distance, a car roared. It was probably the taxi on its way.

“Come on, Leah,” Ste called to her, picking his way over to where Lucas had collapsed onto his back, dizzy and giggling up at the sky.

Leah looked up, a bright smile on her face. “Daddy!” She pushed herself to her feet and began running towards him.

The car was coming closer - too loud, too fast. Ste looked over to see a car and a minibus, side by side and speeding uncontrollably, directly towards where Leah had frozen in the middle of the road, staring at the vehicles tearing towards her.

“Leah!” Ste sprinted for her. Icy terror wrapped hard and tight around his chest. The cars were coming closer and closer. He was too far away. He wasn’t going to reach her in time, he wasn’t going to make it, he was too late, she was going to - “ _Leah!_ ”

Distantly, he heard a cry of “ _Steven!_ ” and another voice, muffled, “Oh my God...” But then his arms were around her, she was safe, but the cars kept coming, he was right in their path -

Something solid slammed into him and then he was flying through the air. His body instinctively curled around his daughter, keeping her secure to his chest and safe. Then his head was crashing into the fence post and he knew only blackness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains descriptive injuries and talk of medical procedures. There are also a few sedative-happy nurses.
> 
> Please note that I have no medical background, so all medical information was obtained through google and hopefully nothing seems too implausible. 
> 
> The wedding date used in this fic is the one listed on the invite, not the show's air date.

When Ste’s eyes next opened, he was strapped down in the back of a vehicle. He lurched in momentary panic before he took in the men around him in their yellow jackets and realized, _an ambulance_. Pain flared through his temple and Ste moaned.

Instantly, a man was hovering over him. Ste cringed away from the light he shone into his eyes.

“You’re in an ambulance, heading to Dee Valley Hospital,” the man said. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Ste. Ste Hay.”

“Very good, Mr. Hay,” the paramedic jotted something down on his clipboard. “Can you tell me what day it is?”

“November 18,” Ste blinked back tears. “It’s me wedding day.”

The paramedic gave a small nod, scribbling something else on his forms. “And do you remember what happened?”

Ste thought for a moment. “The wedding… Doug and I had a fight, so I went outside… The cars… There were two cars… Leah?” His heart rate spiked on the monitor by his head. “Where’s Leah?”

She had been in his arms. He remembered the relief, that he had gotten to her in time. But the cars had been coming to fast, he hadn’t had time to get out of the way. He’d been hit… So where was Leah?

“Mr. Hay,” the second paramedic was saying, his voice steady. “Mr. Hay, you have a concussion, you need to remain calm.”

“She’s me daughter,” Ste cried, panic rising. His head was pounding, it was getting harder to breathe. “I’m supposed to look out for her, where is she?”

“Mr. Hay!”

“What happened to -? Where?” He was hyperventilating, vision fading into spots. “Leah!”

He was being held down. There was a prick in his arm, and then everything went colourful and hazy. His breathing evened out, the heart monitor slowed to a steady pace. There was something pressing, something he needed to do, something he was worried about, but he couldn’t focus on what that might be.

“Mr. Hay, can you hear me?” The voice sounded muffled and hollow, as though his ears were underwater. He gave a bland smile of acknowledgement, so the voice continued. “You’ve been given a sedative; it will wear off in a couple of hours. We’re almost there.”

~x~

“Hey,” a scratchy voice said when his eyes next flickered open. “There he is.” His eyes slowly focused on Cheryl’s pink, tear-swollen face. “Welcome back, love.”

His head ached fiercely. Wincing, he lifted a hand to his temple. His fingertips brushed against bandage.

“You took a good knock to the head, there,” Cheryl explained. “You’ve got a bit of a cut and a concussion, but the nurse says you’ll be right as rain in a few days - you just have to take it easy for a bit.”

Ste nodded, swallowing hard. He accepted the glass of water Cheryl offered him, tilting his head up to wrap his lips around the straw and take a sip.

“Leah?” he asked when his mouth no longer felt so cottony.

“She’s fine, love,” Cheryl reassured him. “A bit shook up, but just fine. Doug’s just taken her and Lucas home to bed, but he’ll be right back once he get’s Leanne sorted out to stay with them.”

Ste touched the bandage again. Other than his head, he seemed uninjured. He remembered a collision… “Did the car hit me?” he wondered.

Cheryl’s small laugh sounded closer to a sob. “No, love,” she said, “our Brendan did.”

Ste searched her face, taking in her pallid colour and red, swollen eyes. His stomach dropped. “Is he…?” he couldn’t finish the question, couldn’t force any more words past the lump in his throat.

“Still in surgery,” Cheryl answered with a shake of her head. “That minibus hit him full-on. They won’t tell me anything yet.” She swallowed hard, fresh tears pooling in her eyes. “I can’t believe it… He’s only just got back on his feet again after the explosion and now this…”

Guilt broiled within Ste’s gut. “That were supposed to be me, weren’t it?” he said numbly. “He pushed me out of the way; he took the hit for me. That were supposed to be me.”

“No,” Cheryl objected, taking his hand in hers. “It wasn’t, you hear me? He’ll be made up that you and your Leah are okay, and I am, too. None of this is your fault.”

“Why would he do it?” Ste wondered, becoming distantly aware that he was crying. “Why would he jump in front of a speeding car for me?”

Cheryl gave his hand a firm squeeze. “Because he loves you, babe. You know he does.”

The wedding band sat snuggly against his knuckle, unfamiliar and obtrusive. Ste looked down at it, rolled it between his fingers. It stared back at him, mocking him. “I don’t deserve it,” he said plainly.

Cheryl wiped the tears from his cheeks, giving him a gentle smile. “That’s the great thing about unconditional love, silly. You don’t have to do anything to deserve it. It just is.”

Ste gave her a weak smile, which was returned warmly. He glanced back down at the ring. “Do you think Doug loves me like that?” he wondered. “Would he jump in front of a car for me? Would he take a bullet for me?”

“Of course he would,” Cheryl’s eyes were large and understanding. Too understanding. He wasn’t sure whether or not she believed her own words. “And you know he would never batter you while doing it, either,” she said with more resolve.

Ste wondered if he would ever take a bullet for Doug - if he would ever take a bullet for Brendan. It shamed him that he didn’t know on either account.

It wasn’t long before a doctor joined them in the room, flashing her penlight into Ste’s eyes and running her tests.

“Looks like the bleeding has finally stopped,” the doctor said cheerfully as she redressed the cut on Ste’s temple. “Took a right knock-about, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, suppose so,” Ste said. He wasn’t sure if she was oblivious to the tension in the room and the fact that he and Cheryl had both been recently crying, or if she was tactfully ignoring it.

The doctor scribbled something on her clipboard. “Well, it looks like you’re all in order; reflexes and light sensitivity appear to be good and all systems are a-go!” She beamed at him until he gave her a weak smile. “How’s the pain?”

“Like a bad headache,” Ste said with a shrug.

“That’s to be expected, I’m afraid,” she said sympathetically. “Any dizziness or nausea?”

Ste shook his head.

“Good!” the doctor grinned brightly. She jotted down something else on his forms. “Well, it looks like you’re on the right track, fit as a fiddle! I see no reason that you’d need to stay overnight, assuming that there’s someone who can stay with you?” she cast a curious glance at Cheryl.

“My husband,” Ste agreed, the words feeling strange on his tongue.

The doctor blinked, her smile freezing briefly before widening again. “Excellent. As soon as he’s here to sign you out, then, you’re good to go! Just take it easy over the next week, and be sure to come back in if you start experiencing dizziness or nausea. Take a paracetamol if the pain gets too much, but try to avoid ibuprofen or advil, okie dokie?”

Ste gave her a sarcastic, cheek-splitting grin and thumbs up as she flounced from the room.

After Ste had redressed in his wedding suit, he and Cheryl made their way to the ICU waiting room to wait for Brendan’s surgery to finish. Cheryl was hopeful that news of her brother’s condition would come soon. “You don’t have to stay, Ste,” she said as they walked. “You must be exhausted. Doug will be here soon, he’ll take you home.”

“No,” Ste shook his head vehemently, instantly regretting it when the movement sent a spasm of pain through his skull. “Not until I know how Brendan is.”

“Okay,” she said simply, directing him to a pair of free seats in the corner.

Looking around the waiting room, Ste saw several familiar faces, scratched and dusty and all looking a bit lost. “What happened?” he asked Cheryl.

Cheryl followed his gaze and sighed. “The minibus crashed through the Orangery after it hit Brendan,” she said. “Rhys is dead, and a couple of the sixth formers who were driving it. There were some other injuries, too.”

“Rhys,” Ste breathed softly. He and the other man had never really got on, but he had been a co-worker, once, as well as a friend of Amy’s. “The other injuries, were they bad?”

“None as rough as our Brendan. I think he slowed the car down with his chest,” she gave him a tired smile and a sardonic chuckle. “Everyone else was able to get out of it’s path.”

“Always has been a bit of an unstoppable force, hasn’t he?” Ste returned her smile weakly.

They sat in silence, hands clasped tightly as they watched the people come in and out of the waiting room. Ste’s eyes grew heavy and he sank down to rest his head against Cheryl’s shoulder, but he felt too wound up to sleep. His gut was a battle ground of worry and guilt. It had already been an hour that Brendan had been in surgery - shouldn’t they have heard something by now? Brendan wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for Ste.

“Hey.”

Ste looked up to see Doug standing by them, holding out two cups of cheap coffee.

“Thanks, love,” Cheryl said as she accepted the cup offered to her.

Ste echoed with a “Ta” as he sat up and took the lukewarm paper cup between his palms. “The kids?” he asked.

“In bed,” Doug perched on the edge of the seat next to Ste. “Leanne’s staying with them until we get back. You doing okay?”

“Concussion,” Ste tapped the bandage on his head. “Doc says to take it easy for a few days.”

“Right,” Doug nodded. “So shouldn’t you be home resting?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “But not until I hear how Brendan is.”

Doug sighed. “No word yet, then?”

“Do you suddenly care?” Ste scoffed. His head was aching; he was exhausted and worried about Brendan. With the memory of their previous fight still fresh in his mind, he was in no mood to be charitable.

“That’s not fair, Ste,” Doug said quietly. He cast an embarrassed glance in Cheryl’s direction, but she was paying them no heed as she hopefully tracked the doctors coming in and out of the waiting room with red and puffy eyes. The coffee sat between her palms, untouched. She worried at the lid with her thumbs. 

Doug was probably right. It wasn’t fair of him, but a selfish part of Ste wanted to hold onto that rage, to lash out. Anger was easy. Anger was an old friend. If he had to feel something, anger was a much better option than the threatening despair. Brendan would be okay. He _had to be_.

Giving in with a sigh, Ste said, “No. No word yet. He’s still in surgery.”

As he finished speaking, a harried-looking surgeon in green scrubs appeared in the doorway, calling for the family of Brendan Brady. Ste hesitated as Cheryl stood, but she grabbed his elbow to tug him after her.

Brendan had always been a very private man, especially about anything that he perceived to be a weakness. “He wouldn’t want me there,” Ste tried, but Cheryl was having none of it.

“Please,” she said softly. With one look at her large, anxious eyes, Ste caved. Whether or not Brendan would hate him for it, Cheryl needed him there.

He glanced at Doug, worried about how his new husband would react, but Doug just gave him a soft smile. “You go on,” he said. “I’ll wait here.”

The surgeon raised an eyebrow, but made no comment about Ste’s presence as he led them to a small office to debrief.

“I am Doctor Maslow, head of the team that handled Mr. Brady’s surgery,” the surgeon began, shaking Cheryl’s hand and ignoring Ste. “Miss Brady, as you are perhaps aware, your brother took the brunt of the impact to his chest. This has resulted in several broken ribs, one of which pierced a lung, and significant hemorrhaging throughout the thoracic cavity, threatening a cardiac tamponade. We performed a -”

“Sorry,” Ste interrupted, “threatening what?”

“A cardiac tamponade,” Doctor Maslow repeated dryly, glaring at Ste. “A buildup of fluid around the heart that increases the pressure within the chest and impedes the heart’s ability to fully expand. We performed a median sternotomy to repair the damage to his heart and lung and to control the bleeding.”

“A median what?” Ste interrupted again, feeling his anger grow. He wished this doctor would stop with all of his lah-di-dah terms and just straight out tell him what was happening with Brendan.

“Median sternotomy,” the surgeon replied with an impatient glare. “It means we entered his chest by cutting open his sternum.” Patronizingly, he added, "That's the breastbone."

“Okay,” Ste swallowed, “and you said his heart was damaged?”

Doctor Maslow’s eyebrow climbed. “It appears that a fragment of rib bone was forced into his chest upon impact,” he said. “It grazed his heart, causing superficial tissue damage and heavy bleeding within his chest cavity. The damage has been repaired, and it is of a low possibility that he will suffer lasting repercussions due to it." He pressed on, "He also suffered a compound fracture in his right arm and dislocated his right shoulder, both of which have been set and dressed.

“Mr. Brady is being taken to his recovery room as we speak, although it may be a while yet before he awakens. At this time, we have no reason to suspect that Mr. Brady will fall into a coma, though it remains a possibility if his brain suffered blood loss due to the damage within his chest.”

Cheryl swallowed hard, looking dazed. “Can -” she cleared her throat and tried again, “Can we see him now?”

“The nurses are setting up his equipment as we speak,” Doctor Maslow confirmed.

Cheryl nodded. She looked as pale and scared as Ste felt. She clutched at his hand as if he were the only anchor left in a world that had lost all gravity and sense of direction as a nurse arrived to lead them to Brendan’s room.

“Before you go in,” the nurse said, “I should warn you that there is a tube in Mr. Brady’s chest, as well as the usual tubing and wiring to keep him hydrated and to monitor his vitals. The tube is there to normalize the pressure within his chest, as is standard after invasive surgery in the thoracic cavity.” She gave them a small smile and opened the door, closing it gently behind them.

Taking in Brendan’s appearance, Ste stifled a gasp, his heart lurching. He sank heavily into one of the chairs at Brendan’s bedside, dimly registering Cheryl doing the same in the chair opposite. Brendan looked a mess. The blankets ended just below his ribcage, displaying the swaths of bandage wrapped around his chest and the heavy cast that ran from his knuckles to the top of his bicep. As the surgeon had said, a thin tube poked out from under the bandages and several other tubes and wires covered the exposed part of his chest and disappeared into his unbroken arm. His normally pale skin looked completely colourless against the stark white of the hospital sheets. Even while hidden under the oxygen mask, his moustache looked comically bold in contrast and the vivid bruising scattered over his face, arms and chest was violently purple.

“Oh,” Ste said softly. Cheryl’s trembling hands cupped one of Brendan’s between her own. Briefly hesitating, Ste took the other. He had seen Brendan lying in hospital beds twice before - after the explosion and on the memorable occasion when Ste had cracked him over the head with a baseball bat. Neither time compared. Brendan had never looked quite so small and broken.

“He’s going to be okay, right?” Cheryl asked with a shaky voice, seeking reassurance.

Ste swallowed hard against the tightness in his throat. “Yeah, ‘course he is!” he said with forced joviality. “The doc said he was recovering, he’ll wake up any minute.” He blinked back the threatening tears. “Any minute now.” The alternatives were unthinkable.

Three quarters of an hour passed, Ste and Cheryl sitting their silent vigil, before there came a gentle knock on the door and Doug entered. His eyes widened as he took in the state of Brendan before fixating on his hand clutched between Ste’s. Ste couldn’t bring himself to feel any guilt at the flash of hurt in Doug’s eyes; he had no room for any emotions beyond fear for Brendan and his own guilt. Doug swallowed before quickly looking away, blinking rapidly.

“So how is he, then?” Doug asked.

“His heart was damaged," he said after a pause, avoiding delving into the details. He wasn’t sure he fully understood the extent of Brendan’s injuries, himself. “And he has some broken bones.”

“Okay,” Doug gave Ste’s shoulder a supportive squeeze.

His touch made Ste’s skin crawl. Distantly, he knew that Doug was being great about all of this, but a selfish part of him wanted the bit of him that was Doug’s and the bit of him that was Brendan’s to remain fully separate. Ste didn’t want to share Brendan’s condition with Doug, didn’t want to share his own concerns. Doug was an intruder upon his and Cheryl’s grief, a man who had no stakes in whether or not Brendan pulled through. In the grand scheme of things, Doug would probably be happier if Brendan didn’t. That had been his plan all along, hadn’t it? To ensure that Brendan was permanently out of the way.

He wished Doug would just leave. He wanted to be alone with Cheryl and Brendan, to pretend that there was a place for him in their small family. He wanted to be able to hold Brendan’s hand and worry over him without the silent, judging gaze of his new husband.

They sat in silence, Ste and Cheryl resuming their vigil while Doug sat by Ste’s side, an interloper upon their grief.

Cheryl spoke up when a nurse dropped by to check Brendan’s vitals. “Excuse me,” she asked, her voice dry and scratchy, “shouldn’t he be waking up by now?”

The nurse offered her a friendly smile as she flipped through Brendan’s charts. “The anesthetics should have worn off by now, but sometimes the body needs more time to recover from trauma than we estimate. His vitals are stable and he is responding to stimuli, so at this point we have no reason to suspect he will fall into a coma. He’ll wake up in his own time.”

“Right,” Cheryl swallowed. “And, um, any idea when that will be?”

The nurse scribbled her initials onto Brendan’s form and pocketed the biro. “It’s entirely up to Mr. Brady,” she said. “His body knows what’s best for him. He could wake any time between five minutes from now and five hours from now. We’ll just have to wait and see.” She gave another sympathetic smile before leaving the room.

“Five hours?” Ste repeated numbly.

Doug sighed. “We should go home, Ste. You really need to rest.”

“No,” Ste shook his head. “I’m not leaving him. You go on ahead.”

Doug gaped at him in disbelief. “What, so you’d rather spend your wedding night with your ex than with your new husband?”

“He’s in a hospital bed, unconscious and recovering from heart surgery,” Ste snapped. “What do you think is going to happen?”

“You have a concussion, Ste,” Doug forged on, ignoring the question. “You need to be at home, resting.”

“I’m not leaving him,” Ste repeated. “He saved me life. Again. And Leah, too - we wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him.”

“And Brendan’s hold tightens once again,” Doug muttered. Louder, he continued, “Look, Ste. You were signed out of the hospital and into my care. I’m supposed to be making sure that you’re resting, and I really think you need to -”

“You’re both the same, aren’t you,” Ste realized. “You and Brendan, both always trying to control me, thinking you know what’s best for me. At least he was open about it; you hide it all behind soft words and gestures. But you’re the same as him, you and Brendan, both with your games.”

Doug recoiled as if he’d been struck. “I’m nothing like him!”

“It was our wedding day,” Ste hissed. “You were marrying _me_ , you’d already won! But you couldn’t resist getting one more over on him, could you?”

“Ste -”

“You’re always saying how you’re so much better for me than he is, but you know what? Walker would never have gotten to me if it weren’t for you, and Brendan would’ve taken that bullet for me. If Brendan hadn’t been there today, that would be me lying there. Or maybe it would have been Leah. Or you know what? Maybe not. Maybe Brendan got lucky and that minibus would’ve just killed me. And if you’d had your way, he wouldn’t have been there at all, now would he? He’d be stuck behind bars again.”

“This wasn’t my fault, Ste!” Doug tried, his eyes wide and watery. “You can’t just pin this on me.”

Ste knew he was right, but the rage was blazing hot and bright. Brendan was hurt and he just wanted Doug to _go_ so that he could sit and watch over him in peace, without worrying about what his emotions might reveal. Doug, with his weepy eyes and trembling lip, just added fuel to his fire. He laughed mirthlessly. “Can’t I? That’s twice now that Brendan’s saved me life when you put me in danger by trying to get the upper hand on him.”

“That’s not fair. Leah would still -”

“Isn’t it?” Ste spoke over him. “You know, there were times when I were seeing him that I thought he were going to kill me. But the only times my life has been in real danger, right, were when I were with you.”

“He beat you up, Ste! All the time!”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“He’s a thug, a dealer, and a mur-”

“Enough!” Cheryl yelled at them, jumping to her feet and shocking both boys into silence. Ste had almost forgotten that she was there. “I am not letting yous have your wee domestic about my brother over my brother’s sickbed! I won’t have it!” She pointed at Doug, “You, go home if you’re going, and you,” she pointed at Ste, “stay, go, I don’t care, just do it quietly!” Her piece said, she sat back down with a huff, sweeping her hair out of her face.

With a glance at Brendan, Doug bit back the rest of his words. “Right. Sorry,” he said. He cast one last disappointed glare at Ste as he swept from the room.

Ste looked up at Cheryl from beneath his lashes, feeling cowed. “Sorry, Chez,” he mumbled.

Cheryl softened. “You know our Brendan would have been dead chuffed to hear yous two fighting like that. But I’m not having my brother’s dirty laundry aired in a public shouting match. We don’t need coppers swooping in because some nosy soul passed by and heard that boy of your shouting his head off about him being a dealer and a murderer.”

Ste chewed at his lip, shamefaced. He mulled over the fact that Cheryl seemed wholly unsurprised at the accusation of her brother being a murderer. The way the Bradys had been after the explosion, how Cheryl had wanted nothing to do with him and had even gone so far as to try and ban him from Lynsey’s funeral suddenly made more sense.

“You knew?” Ste asked quietly, “That he’s killed before?”

Cheryl studied him for a long moment. Finally, when Ste was about to retract the question, she nodded. “I saw him... _disposing of_... the body when we were in Southport,” she admitted. “He told you?”

Ste hesitated, taking in Brendan’s unconscious and battered face. That was at least two dead bodies he could be held accountable for, then. “Not about that one,” he finally admitted..

Swallowing tightly, Cheryl nodded. Her eyes were a little wild.

“He must've had his reasons, though, right?” Ste added hastily. “He always does.”

Cheryl gave a quiet, despair-riddled laugh. “I’ve never really known him, have I?” She glanced down at her brother, a crease between her eyebrows.

“That’s not true, that,” Ste protested, his tone insistent. He trailed his fingers up and down the backs of Brendan’s where they stuck out, purple and swollen, from the cast. “You and me, we know him better than anyone, don’t we? The good, bad, and ugly.”

Eyes tracking the path of Ste’s fingers over Brendan’s hand, Cheryl smiled softly before reclaiming Brendan’s other hand in her own. “I suppose we do,” she said. She hesitated a moment before speaking again, eyes still on his hand.

“Ste?”

He hummed in acknowledgement, eyes busy mapping the bruising on Brendan’s face and arms. It was humbling, that one man could love him so much, could risk so much for him again and again and expect nothing but rejection in return. He had killed Danny Houston to protect him and Ste had pushed him away. He had given Ste eighty thousand pounds to start a business and Ste had betrayed him. When he stood between Ste and a gun, Ste had gone back to Doug. He had jumped into the path of a bus and in five minutes or five hours, Ste knew that he would yet again be returning to Doug.

“You do love Doug, don’t you? You wanted to marry him?”

Surprised, Ste blinked up at her, his fingers stilling in their path. “Yeah, ‘course.”

“Because before,” Cheryl plowed on, “Brendan was going to stop you, but I stopped him. Only now…” she faltered before regaining her courage, “You wanted him to stop the wedding, didn’t you? You still love him, too.”

Ste stared at her, eyes wide. He had believed that everything between he and Brendan was distant past. He had Doug, he had the deli, he had beaten Brendan at his own games…

But then Southport came, and the explosion and Walker. Brendan became more than just an ex-lover, more than just the daily irritant. He was someone to take care of, and someone to be protected by. He was a wall of safety when before, he had been nothing but danger and thrill and pain. Did he love Brendan again? Or still?

He thought about sneaking behind Noah’s back with Brendan. He thought about bringing him sandwiches on the sly after the explosion and how seeing him walk into the deli always made his heart give a secret lurch. Out of all the people and places and memories in Hollyoaks, Brendan was the one constant - the one thing that Ste couldn’t bear the thought of leaving.

He glanced down at Brendan’s face, thinking about how lately, he and Doug couldn’t even be in the same room together for five minutes without fighting about Brendan. Doug had accused him on multiple occasions of still caring for Brendan. Ste had denied it time and again, but had Doug been right?

Lost in thought, he stared down at Brendan’s face, fingers resuming their slow pacing on Brendan’s hand. Cheryl sat back and watched him, arms folded smuggly across her chest.

It took him a long moment to realize that Brendan’s eyelashes were fluttering, showing slivers of blue. Adrenaline surged through him and he leapt to his feet, ignoring the wave of dizziness at the sudden motion.

“Brendan?” He dashed to the door, sticking his head into the hall. “Nurse! Nurse, he’s waking up!”

Returning to Brendan’s side, he reclaimed his hand as the same nurse from before entered the room.

The nurse shone her penlight into Brendan’s eyes, testing his pupil response before continuing with her standard tests. “Try talking to him,” she suggested as she worked, “See if you can get him to wake fully.”

Cheryl smoothed Brendan’s hair back from his forehead. “Hey, babe,” she said at the nurse’s encouragement. “We’re in the hospital. Ste’s with me.”

Brendan’s eyes slid open drowsily. He glanced about, head turning to the side before his eyes focused on Cheryl and he blinked, becoming slowly more aware.

“Do you remember what happened?” Cheryl prompted.

Brendan seemed to think for a minute, taking in the room and his company. He seemed to relax minutely as he saw both Ste and Cheryl were with him, though his eyes lingered questioningly on the bandage around Ste’s head.

“I’m okay,” Ste assured him quietly. “Concussion.”

Brendan’s eyes did a quick sweep over Ste, assessing him for further damage. Satisfied, he looked away, taking in the thick bandages around his own chest and the cast on his arm. He eyed the nurse distrustfully before dismissing her as insignificant.

He raised his good arm to pull the oxygen mask out of the way, his movements loose and uncoordinated. On the first two tries he clumsily grazed his chin, before sliding the mask down on the third. “Walker?” he guessed, the name coming out slurred. His gaze drifted to the side and became fixed, his expression blank.

Cheryl smiled and shook her head. “No, love, just an accident. A couple of kids and that damned bus I’ve been meaning to take into the shop. You saved Ste’s life, and his Leah.”

Brendan’s breath came his quick pants, his heart rate steadily climbing.

“Sir? You need to calm down,” the nurse said worriedly, her eyes on his heart monitor.

“It’s okay, babe,” Cheryl assured him, giving his hand a squeeze. “We’re all fine.”

The heart monitor continued to climb. Brendan began to hyperventilate. Ste suddenly realized what he was looking at: the wedding band on his finger.

“Oh,” he breathed, also looking down at the ring. “Mine and Doug’s wedding was today,” he said, feeling guilty.

“Ye should go now,” Brendan said, his voice tight. The heart monitor continued to beat at an alarming pace. “Please.”

Ste curled his hand into a loose fist, thumb slipping between his ring and middle fingers to tuck over the ring and hide it from view. “Right,” he said, his own breathing coming faster. An inexplicable sense of shame coiled in his gut. “Yeah. Okay.” With one last desperate glance at Cheryl, he turned and fled.

Cheryl sat by helplessly as her usually stoic big brother turned his face away and cried, the pain and morphine working together to shatter his usually ironfisted control of his emotions. Her brother’s heart was broken, and he was too exhausted to hide it.

“I’m sorry,” the nurse said quietly as she slipped a sedative into his IV tube. “Your heart is beating too quickly; the strain will tear your staples.”

The hospital room went fuzzy, then blotchy, then tunnelled into darkness once more.


	3. Chapter 3

Ste felt nauseous in a way that he was sure had nothing to do with his concussion when he entered the flat, throwing his coat over the back of a chair. He scrubbed his hands over his face, unable to forget the way Brendan had frozen and stared at his ring. His voice had sounded so crumpled and hollow as he begged Ste to leave. It was all a sick parody of Brendan’s last hospital stay, when Ste had told him of their engagement. 

Doug lounged against the sofa, a lager held loosely in his fist. The floor around him was littered with empty cans. Ste eyed him uncertainly.

“Leah and Lucas?” he asked. 

“Exhausted,” Doug said dryly. “Scared. Worried about you.” He drained the rest of his beer and tossed the can to lie with the others. “They gave Leanne a heck of a time before they passed out. They wanted to stay up and wait for their dad to come home, but there was no guarantee of that happening, was there? Not with Saint Brendan to fret over.”

“Doug-” Ste began, feeling a stab of guilt, but he faltered. What was there to say? He knew that Leah and Lucas had needed him. The last time they had seen him, he had been unconscious with a bleeding head. He needed to reassure his children that their dad was alright, but he had been too busy fretting over Brendan. He had failed them.

“So?” Doug asked, waving an imperious hand in the air, “How is Saint Brendan, patron of heroism?”

Rolling his eyes, Ste said, “Been thinking that one up since you left, have you?”

“Pretty much, yep,” Doug gave an unapologetic shrug. 

“It’s not even funny!” Ste’s lower jaw jutted out, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

“Well,” Doug sneered, “excuse me for not feeling very humourous while my husband ditches me and his children on our wedding night because he’d rather sit and watch his ex sleep.”

“Everything is so sordid with you,” Ste protested. “He were in the hospital, it weren’t like owt was going to happen.”

“Yes,” Doug said sarcastically, “Because that’s the issue here.”

“He were only in the hospital because of me!” Ste snapped back, “He saved me life, was I supposed to just leave him there?”

“Yes! You married  _ me _ , Doug Carter, not Brendan Brady!”

“I know that,” Ste folded his arms over his chest defensively. He knew that Doug was right, that his children and husband should have come before Brendan without a second thought. But seeing him lying there, not knowing when he would wake,  _ if _ he would wake, knowing that it was because of him… “I don’t see why you’re being like this.”

“Don’t you? This is what he does, Ste!” Doug leapt to his feet, spreading his arms dramatically. “This is what he  _ always  _ does. He lets the leash stretch a little bit farther, and then with one sharp tug he’s got you back at his heel.”

“He’s just had open heart surgery,” Ste pointed to the door emphatically. “I know what he’s like better than anyone, but there’s no way that this were one of his schemes.”

“Worked well enough in his favour though, didn’t it?”

“You think taking a bus to the chest was in his favour?”

“Yes!” Doug exclaimed, “Maybe!”

“Doug!” Ste gaped. 

“Let me spell it out for you, Ste,” Doug laughed dryly. “He’s saved your life three times now that we know of.  _ Twice _ , in as many months. Brendan the hero, ‘taking care of’ Danny Houston because he may or may not have made a threat that no one else heard. Brendan the hero, jumping in front of the gun that killed Riley. Brendan the hero, jumping in front of the bus that killed Rhys. You wanted to be out from under his thumb, but you’re just even more indebted to him now, aren’t you?”

Ste stared at him, confused. 

“There’s no saying that he won’t be just fine after all of this, or that you wouldn’t have survived it yourself if he hadn’t been there to knock you out of the way,” Doug continued ruthlessly. “And when he’s recovered, he’s going to come calling in that debt, because that’s what Brendan Brady does. And you just might find that you don’t like the price. Or,” he snorted a laugh, “who knows, maybe you will.”

“Brendan’s not like that,” Ste protested. 

“Right,” Doug nodded with mock sincerity, “because he’s never used coincidental circumstances to his advantage before. He just saved you out of the goodness of his heart, because he’s such a kind and thoughtful person. Saint Brendan,” he gave a sarcastic bow. 

It was a side of Doug that Ste wished he could say he’d never seen before. However, the reality was that this side of Doug reared it’s head every single time Brendan appeared in the picture. The perceived threat of Brendan turned Doug into something twisted and ugly, something that scared Ste almost as much as Brendan’s rage had. Being on the receiving end of Doug’s anger, though, was somehow worse than Brendan’s. Brendan had always been honest about that side of himself. He wore his menace like a shield; it was the softer sides of him that he had striven to conceal. Doug was the opposite: all gentleness and sweet touches. He had never struck Ste, and Ste knew that he never would. But all of Doug’s kindness just made Ste feel even more wrong-footed against the force of his anger. 

“He saved me because he loves me,” Ste said, “why is that so hard for you to understand?”

“Of course,” Doug nodded along. “He loves you, which is why he beat you up and made you his dirty little secret and - oh!” he lifted a finger in mock thoughtfulness, “- thought that  _ murder _ made the perfect gift!”

“He only did it to protect me!”

“Yeah,” Doug snorted. “Yeah, I heard that. You know, I remember when Danny’s body was found. Don’t you? It was  _ you  _ who fished him out of the pond, wasn’t it? How’s that for irony. And I remember what Ethan said - how Danny’s skull had completely caved in and shattered from multiple blows, each with enough force that one alone could have killed him.”

Ste looked away, his stomach churning. He knew that the body he’d found in the pond was Danny Houston. He knew what the papers said about Danny’s cause of death. He knew that Brendan had killed him. He knew all of it, but he tried not to think about it, tried not to connect the dots in his mind, tried not to make a picture of it. Those separate thoughts - Brendan killed Danny; Danny’s skull caved in; Ste found a body - were all so much easier to handle in pieces than as a whole: Ste found the body of Danny Houston after Brendan had bashed in his skull and dumped his body in the river.

But he had thought about it, since learning from Warren that Brendan had killed Danny. He remembered that night clearly, a few days before the staff at Chez Chez were told that Danny had signed his half of the club over to Warren and left town. It wasn’t unusual for Brendan to summon him in the middle of the night. What was strange was that he had been three sheets to the wind when Ste had shown up. Brendan spent a lot of his time drinking, but he was always careful with his limits. That had been the first and only time that Ste had seen him truly drunk.

Brendan had all but fallen on him before he’d even closed the door, kissing him with a fervor akin to desperation. Sex with Brendan had always been better than with anyone else, but that night in particular had made Ste delirious with ecstasy. Brendan had never held him so tightly or moved within him so deeply, his hands constantly roaming, cupping Ste’s face and then petting his legs and then smoothing down his flanks. He held him like Ste was something precious, cherished, clinging to him as if it would kill him to stop touching him.

The contrast when they had finished was startling. Brendan had withdrawn completely, staring blankly into space until Ste had finally managed to coax him out of the stupor. “ _ I did something _ …” Brendan had said. “ _ Something stupid. _ ”

“I know,” Ste told Doug. He knew better than Doug did, he thought. Ste knew what Brendan had done and knew, from what Cheryl had said in the hospital, that it wasn’t the last time that Brendan had killed someone. He also knew the toll that it payed upon Brendan. He had seen the aftermath of Brendan’s killing Danny and held him through it, even if he hadn’t been aware of it at the time. 

“The part that you seem to have missed, though,” Doug said furiously, “is the part where the only reason Danny was after you was because of  _ Brendan _ ! Danny tried to hurt you to get to  _ Brendan _ . And then  _ Walker _ tried to hurt you to get to  _ Brendan _ . Where does it end, huh? You’ll be looking over your shoulder for your whole life. There will  _ always _ be a Simon Walker or a Danny Houston out to get you, because that’s just the kind of guy that Brendan is!” 

“Maybe,” Ste allowed, his words aiming to wound, “but it doesn’t seem to make a difference if I’m with him at the time or not, though, does it? They come after me all the same. At least  _ he _ can protect me; he’s proven that time and again. But you?” he shook his head. “You just make everything ten times worse, don’t you? Walker would have never gotten me under gunpoint if you hadn’t let him, and Brendan saved me from that. I didn’t even know that Danny was after me, because Brendan took care of it, as you said, before Danny could get close. Even my mum: you couldn’t wait to make nice with the inlaws, inviting her in and giving her booze and letting her steal our money. You thought you had this great plan, that you knew what was best for me, but it was once again Brendan who got her to leave me alone.

“ _ That  _ is what Brendan does - what he’s always done and will always do. He keeps Cheryl and me, the people he cares about, safe at all costs. He even protected me from that bus today, right? And I would never have been out there if it weren’t for you being so jealous of him all the time.” 

He knew that he was being cruel, dancing on a sore nerve. He was just so fed up with Doug’s hatred towards Brendan. Brendan, at least, had kept to his word. He had backed off when Ste had tricked him into signing over the deli. Maybe it was as Doug feared and Brendan was only biding his time before starting again from a new angle. Regardless, Doug hadn’t even been able to keep his promise to back off of Brendan for one day. He was exhausted and his head ached and he wanted to be back by Brendan’s side to reassure himself that he would be okay, and he just wanted Doug to piss off.

“And you would have been so much safer if you had never left the building, right?” Doug said scathingly. “Did you miss the part where the minibus went  _ through _ the building? Rhys  _ died  _ in there! Either way, Leah would have still been in danger.”

“You’re right,” Ste nodded easily. “Our wedding was a complete disaster, just like this relationship is. We never should’ve gotten married in the first place. It would be better for all involved, that way.”

Doug’s face crumpled. “I didn’t mean that. It wouldn’t have been better for me,” he said quietly. Ste felt a small pang of remorse, but his lingering anger quickly overwhelmed it. “Look, Ste, I know you’re still in love with Brendan.” Ste automatically opened his mouth to deny it, but Doug shook his head gently. “I know,” he repeated. “And maybe you always will be. I tell myself that’s okay, that I can live with it because you married me - I thought you chose me. You love me too, and I thought that would be enough. 

“But Brendan will always be there in the shadows, and he and I will always hate each other; that’s just how it is. He’ll always be trying to get one over on me, and I’ll always be floundering to come out ahead. I know that I can’t compete with him, not really. You and I don’t have the history, don’t have the same passion that the two of you do, and I know I keep screwing it all up. But I love you and I would never hurt you. I hoped that could be enough. But occasionally, just sometimes, I need you to put me first - to think of me before you think of him. I know it’s hard today, with everything that’s happened, but I really hoped that our wedding day would be one of those times.”

Doug sniffled, his eyes wet and shining, and Ste felt his anger melt off of him as quickly as it had come, to be replaced by a burning shame. Doug was right. Doug was his rock, stable and true. Ste knew that Doug had a loyal heart and he would always be there for him. But Brendan was his fire, burning hot and bright and ardent, casting all men who followed into shadow. Ste was a fool for ever believing that time and distance could quell that flame. On a day that was supposed to be about he and Doug, starting their new life together, he had spent more time thinking about and watching Brendan than anyone else. Brendan had utterly ruined him for all who followed; Doug deserved a much better man that Ste.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, feeling the guilt churn through his gut. His throat burned with rising tears. “I’m sorry, Doug.” 

Suddenly, the stress of the day and Ste’s exhaustion surged together, bursting through the seams. He felt himself sag, and then he was bawling - great, hiccoughing sobs that ripped through his chest and tore at his throat. He didn’t know who his tears belonged to: Brendan, lying in a hospital bed with a tube in his chest because he couldn’t help but watch as the man he loved married someone else; Doug, who was so kind and gentle, yet knew that he would never fully own his husband’s heart; or himself, that he had landed himself in this position where, no matter what he did, he would be trampling over the hearts of both of the men he loved. Perhaps it was all three.

“I’m so sorry.”

Doug sighed, sinking back into the sofa and pulling Ste down with him. “I know,” he said as he tucked Ste’s head under his chin. His hand rubbed soothing circles against his husband’s trembling back. “I know you are.”

~x~

_ “Come on, Leah.” Brendan’s head lifted instinctively towards the voice. He was drawn, as ever, towards Steven. The younger man was a physical presence within his chest, standing between Brendan and his demons with a fierce, challenging glare in his eyes. It was never supposed to be like this - Steven was never supposed to become both his shield and the thorn in his side. What was supposed to be an easy fling to settle the shameful itch under Brendan’s skin was never supposed to become something that he couldn’t live without.  _

_ “Daddy!” Steven’s daughter called with a bright grin, running towards him. Steven’s face lit up. Brendan envied her the freedom to make him smile.  _

_ But something was wrong, terribly wrong. _

_ Leah stood frozen in the road, staring with wide eyes at the oncoming bus.  _

_ “Leah!” Steven’s cry broke the spell over Brendan. Horrorstruck, he saw Steven lunge for his daughter, right into the bus’s path. “Leah!” _

_ The bus roared closer, speeding straight for Steven. If that bus hit him, Brendan knew that it would be the end of all hope; the world would lose every bit of light and goodness. Brendan’s feet were moving before his mind gave them the signal. Everything depended on him reaching Steven before that bus did. “Steven!” he cried out, his voice high and desperate.  _

_ He was too far away.  _

_ Steven had reached Leah. He gathered her into his arms. _

_ Brendan was too far. He would never make it… _

_ The bus gave a triumphant scream as it sensed it’s victory. Brendan gave one last mighty leap, even as the bus gave a sickening bounce, Steven’s yells cut off, and the colours of the world all faded to grey.  _

_ As the bus vanished like a phantom, Brendan turned slowly towards the crumpled figure on the ground. He approached with trepidation.  _

_ One step. _

_ Two steps. _

_ Three. _

_ Four. _

_ He had been so close. Four steps and he could have saved him.  _

_ Gravel dug sharply into his knees as he fell to the ground. Gently, he rolled the figure into his lap. Dark blonde hair. Prominent cheekbones. Pointed nose and full lips. He traced the features tenderly, but he did not know them. It wasn’t Steven. It  _ couldn’t be  _ Steven. Not that twisted corpse, those glassy eyes, the ever-growing pool of red.  _

_ It wasn’t Steven. _

_ It wasn’t. _

_ He could hear birds singing; he could feel the sunlight on the back of his neck.  _

_ It wasn’t Steven. _

_ If it was, there would be nothing left. The birds would have no reason to sing. The sun would have no reason to shine. If it was Steven, it was the end of everything. _

_ Brendan screamed. _

~x~

Consciousness returned slowly, and with it came a stabbing pain in his chest. Brendan rolled his thumb over the small button that would administer his morphine, but he didn’t press it. The pain was a physical thing, something real that he could grab hold of and focus his mind upon. It was a barrier that stopped his thoughts from drifting to the sharper, more urgent pain. 

“Steven’s alive,” he reminded himself. His chest ached with the proof. “He may be married, but at least he’s alive.” 

Steven was a married man, now. Marriage had always been something that Steven had never held faith in, after watching his mother and stepdad. Even after having two children together, he had never taken that final step with Amy. With Douglas, though, he had barely hesitated. What was it about the Yank that had Steven crossing all of his usual boundaries - the lines he never did cross with Amy and never would have with Brendan? What was it about Douglas that was so desirable to Steven? Had Brendan broken him so badly that he would cling desperately to the first offering of love without pain?

Brendan squeezed his eyes shut in frustration, pressing down on his sternum with his fist to cause a fresh wave of agony. Steven was married, but at least he was alive. His breath hissed out as his chest throbbed, his body spasming with the pain, but it wasn’t enough. He thumped his fist twice, releasing an involuntary yelp as his ribs creaked. Cheryl jerked awake from her slump against his bed and gave a shout of alarm. She grabbed his hand between hers, cutting off his blows. It just wasn’t enough. 

The pain was all-encompassing, but Brendan knew that only a small percentage of it was physical. He itched to tear open his stitching, to pry apart the incision in his sternum, to reach inside his chest to that fist-sized space between his lungs and claw out the home that Steven had made for himself there. 

Brendan knew that he broke the things he loved. It was unavoidable - that was who he was, the monster that Seamus Brady had created him to be. Somehow, he had never anticipated that he would be on the receiving end of the heartaches he created. When Vinnie had died, the guilt had been overwhelming. Yet it had never felt like this, pain so raw and merciless. He was meant to be bulletproof, the castle with the tallest walls. He was never supposed to end up here.

“Oh, Bren,” Cheryl said sadly, knowing that the pain tearing him up wasn’t the physical kind. She stroked the backs of her fingers over his cheeks, collecting the tears he hadn’t realized were falling. “What a mess you’ve gotten yourself into this time.”

Brendan clutched at her hand against his face, soaking up all of the comfort that she could offer. Cheryl was the only one he could allow himself to appear weak for. She was the only one who had never let him down. “I’ve lost him, Chez,” he said quietly. “This time for good.”

“You haven’t,” Cheryl assured him, her voice equally quiet. “He was worried sick about ye. When he woke up, you were his second thought, right after that wee girl of his, and I reckon he’d have stayed here all night if you’d let him.”

Brendan gave a dry laugh, cringing as the jerky motion sent a fresh spasm of pain through his chest. “I’m sorry to hear he felt guilty.”

Cheryl walloped him in the arm. Stricken, she immediately apologized. “Still,” she said, standing by her motives, “don’t be such an arse. You know it’s more than that - Ste really cares about ye.”

Brendan sneered. “Ye think I care what that little muppet thinks of me?” 

Cheryl struck him again, this time unrepentant as he winced. “Don't you do that,” she warned, “don't you pretend ye don't care. Not with Ste.”

Brendan sagged. He rubbed at his eyes with his good hand. “He’s got Douglas, now. He doesn't need me, and he's better off that way. He needs to live his life and forget about me.”

Cheryl was quiet. Her hands folded together on Brendan’s blankets as she sat, lost in contemplation. Brendan wondered what she was thinking about, but he would never ask. More than anything, he wished that he could climb out of this hospital bed, rip away the cords from his chest and the tube from his cock, and walk out of that conversation and that country. However, he could feel the weakness in his limbs and knew that he wouldn't make it ten paces.

“Do you think that's really what he wants, though?” Cheryl broke her silence, startling him. “To be with Doug and never see you again?”

Brendan frowned, confused. “That's typically what being married means, Chez.”

Cheryl snorted gracelessly. “This coming from you?” she remarked. “Since when has a little thing like marriage ever stopped you from being with someone ye wanted?”

“It's different.” 

“No, don't do that,” Cheryl protested as he closed off. “Come on, how is it different?”

“It just is.”

Cheryl raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“He’s married to a man.”

“And?” she trailed off. “That's different how?”

“It just is,” Brendan snapped. “It's all a balance of needs and wants, isn't it? Being married to a woman, for a man like me…” he flushed, avoiding eye contact. “Being with a man is a need. It's an itch, constantly under the surface, to be with a body ye desire. 

“But Steven… He’s married to a man. That need is filled at home. Anything else is just sleeping around, cheating, a  _ want _ .”

“I’d like to see you try and explain that logic to Eileen and the wives of all the other men you've slept with.”

Brendan barked a laugh, surprising himself. “It's not their fault, they just got caught on the wrong side of the lie.” He sobered. “I did love Eileen, though,” he admitted. “In my own way. She's probably the only woman I’m ever going to love.”

“I always thought she was a bit of a cow,” Cheryl said with a fond smile, “but she did love you and she's been great with those boys of yours…” she drifted off, watching Brendan from the corner of her eye as she said coyly, “And that Ste is pretty great with Declan, too, ye know.”

“Leave off, Chez,” Brendan scowled. “I know he's a better father than me, even to my own kids.”

“No! That wasn't what I was -” Cheryl broke off with a sigh. “Bugger.”

“It’s an empty argument anyways,” Brendan sighed. “It’s no good.  _ I’m _ no good. My heart isn’t even strong enough to…” he sagged, losing all fire. “Sex was the only thing we were good at. There’s nothing for him with me.”

“Don’t be daft, Bren, Ste loves the bones of ye. Marrying Doug doesn’t just make that disappear. And I know ye. I thought the two of yis were destructive from the start, but I’ve seen how ye are with him. I know you trust him more than anyone, and I know how big a deal that is for ye.”

Brendan snorted in disbelief. “Trust him?” he asked skeptically. He had beaten Steven for fear that the younger man would betray his secret on more than one occasion. He had refused to allow Steven even the smallest measure of control when they were in bed for fear that he would lose the power, that old demons would resurface to drag him under.

“Yes,” Cheryl said, not giving an inch. “Trust him. When Walker was back and I had abandoned ye, who was the one person you felt you could reach out to? Ste.”

“That wasn’t trust,” Brendan muttered, “that was desperation. He was the only option.”

“No,” Cheryl said firmly, “ye trust him. Desperate or not, my brother never asks for help. Remember when we were kids and you’d broken your leg on that camping trip? Da offered to help you up the stairs, but ye flat out refused to let him, a-screamin and a-hollerin defiantly whenever he tried to get near ye. You refused Da’s help while ye were injured even when he offered it; ye sought Ste out when you were hurt and needed help.”

Brendan smiled sardonically. “And that’s your proof, is it?” he shook his head with a small, humourless laugh. “Alright, so maybe I trust Steven more than Dad -” Cheryl gave a triumphant whoop, “- but I trusted Walker, too. Look where that got me.”

Cheryl’s eyes narrowed. “Ste isn’t Walker. He would never betray ye.”

“He thought I killed Rae,” Brendan said. His voice was tinged with a hurt that he made no effort to hide.

“The whole damned country thought you’d killed Rae,” Cheryl pointed out. “Ye didn’t exactly give him much reason to think ye hadn’t.” 

“It’s all pointless anyway,” Brendan pointed out.

“What do ye mean?”

Brendan’s fingers fidgeted with his IV. “I mean, he’s got Douglas, now, and the Deli. He’s got a real chance to make something of his life. He’s got the chance to be happy, and that’s something he never had with me.”

Silence filled the small hospital room, broken only by the infernal beeping of Brendan’s machines. Cheryl mulled over his words as Brendan tried not to look like he was sulking. 

“But what about your happiness?” Cheryl asked finally. 

Brendan turned to her. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “That's one thing I gave up on years ago,” he admitted softly. “I need to keep him safe, Chez. If i can't be there to protect him, then I need to keep as far away from him as possible. I can be happy if I know he’s safe.”

“That's not what happiness is, Bren.”

Brendan's smile gentled. He trailed the back of a finger over his sister's cheek. “That's as happy as I'll get,” he said honestly.

Steven could only reject him so many times before those feelings of self-hatred and worthlessness that Brendan had been battling against his whole life swamped him. He could only choose someone who wasn’t Brendan so many times before Brendan lost all faith that he was someone who could offer anything to Steven that would be worth having. When it came down to the wire, the only things that Brendan had to give were pain, fear, and death.

“Your heart will heal, Bren,” Cheryl said, leaving Brendan to wonder if she meant physically or metaphorically. Perhaps it was both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story seems to be rather dialogue-heavy. Hopefully it doesn't become too tedious, more action should come in later chapters.


	4. Chapter 4

Ste accepted the last of the wet breakfast dishes from Doug, drying the bowl as well as he could with a rag that was damper than the dish. Up to his elbows in soapsuds, Doug pulled  the plug to drain the sink of dirty water. As Ste dried, he felt a small tug at the leg of his trousers. He looked down, smile already forming on his face, to see Leah staring up at him with wide eyes and a curious expression.

“All set for school?” he asked her cheerfully. Leah was still skeptical about the whole school lark and needed a boost of secondhand enthusiasm some mornings to get her going. Ste couldn’t say he blamed her; he had always hated school himself, but Leah was heaps smarter that he’d been at her age.

Leah frowned thoughtfully for a moment before shaking her head.

“No?” Ste gave an exaggerated gasp. He set the half-dried bowl on the countertop and tossed aside the rag. “Well why not?”

Leah gave a small shrug and chewed at her lip. She dithered a moment before asking, “Daddy, is the hairy man an angel?”

Behind him, Doug barked a startled laugh. He could guess well enough who ‘the hairy man’ was. “No,” he said amusedly, “no, definitely not, honey.”

Ste tossed a venomous glare over his shoulder and the laughing stopped. “What makes you say that?” he asked encouragingly as he turned back to his daughter.

Leah worried at her skirt uncertainly. “Jenny from school said she knew her mommy was an angel when she wouldn’t wake up.”

Understanding shook Ste to his core. He dropped to his haunches and opened his arms; Leah fell into them without further prompting.

“No,” he assured her. “No he’s not an angel. But he was hurt really badly, so he just took a bit longer to wake up.” He gave her a pronounced grin that he was sure didn’t meet his eyes. “Just like me, and I’m not an angel, am I?”

Leah touched his face with a sticky hand, as if to reassure herself. A slow smile crossed her face as she shook her head.

“That’s right,” Ste said, his smile turning wicked. “Because if I was, I wouldn’t be able to do this!” He lunged for her belly with a playful roar, tickling it furiously. With a screaming laugh, Leah kicked his hands away, yelling, “Stop it, Daddy!” He let go with a genuine grin as she lay on her back, giggling helplessly.

When the laughing died down, Leah turned bright eyes back on Ste. “Can I see him?” she asked hopefully.

“The hairy man?” Ste clarified. At her nod, Ste glanced warily at Doug. His face was a mask of stone. Ste hesitated. He knew that Doug would read too much into it, but he also knew that his daughter needed the reassurance that Brendan had survived the bus crash. “Yeah,” he fixed a smile onto his face, turning back to Leah. “Yeah, of course you can. We’ll go after school, yeah?” She gave him a wide smile and an eager nod.

“Right,” Ste clapped his hands and stood, the matter settled. He took Leah’s reaching hands and swung her onto her feet. “Go and get your things.”

He waited until she had disappeared into her bedroom before rounding on his husband. Ste frowned at Doug, arms crossed over his chest. Uncomfortable under his glare, Doug fidgeted. “What?” he finally broke under the weight of Ste’s gaze. He swallowed. “Look, Ste, I -”

Ste interrupted, “Don’t ever laugh at me daughter when she’s asking a serious question again.”

“Even you have to admit that was funny. I mean, come on: _Brendan_ , an angel,” he gave a weak, disbelieving laugh.

“Never again,” Ste said sharply.

“Okay,” Doug said softly. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean for it to seem like I was laughing at her.”

“You should apologize to her,” Ste advised. “Our Leah can hold grudges like no other, but she forgives easily.”

“Yeah,” Doug said. “Yeah, I will. Just…” he hesitated. “You’re not really going to take her to see Brendan, are you?”

Ste tensed. “Why shouldn’t I?”

Doug’s heavy eyebrows were furrowed. “Are you sure that it’s a good idea?”

“Brendan’s not going to hurt her.”

Sighing, Doug said, “That’s not what I meant.”

Ste dragged a hand down his face, gathering his patience. “Just say what you mean.”

“Well, think about it, Ste,” Doug began, finding his stride. “Do you really want to make yet another link to tether you to Brendan? You keep saying that you’re done with him and you want to be free from him, yet every time you might start to let go, you wind his rope around your hands a little bit tighter. If we,” he gestured across the space between them, “are ever going to work, you need to cut those ties because that guy is toxic.”

“Brendan’s not the problem, Doug!” Ste slammed his fist down on the counter top, startling even himself with his sudden vehemence. Doug looked as shocked as he had upon the solitary occasion when Ste had shoved him, that same look of panic flaring fleetingly across his face. Ste buried his face in his hands, silently counting backwards from ten. When he resurfaced, he repeated, “Brendan’s not the problem; he’s been scapegoat long enough. It’s this,” he waved a finger between them, copying Doug’s gesture. “Us. We’re not working.”

“What are you talking about?” Doug frowned unhappily. “Of course we are.”

“Look, that, exactly,” Ste pointed at Doug’s expression. “When was the last time you and me were even happy? We’ve been fighting since we were married, we were fighting at the wedding, and we were fighting long before the wedding even took place. All we ever do is fight and then have makeup sex and then fight again. Thing is, though,” he added meanly, “we never really solve the problem, do we? We never really makeup, and the makeup sex isn’t even that good.”

Doug froze, recoiling as if from a physical blow and Ste mentally cursed himself, his eyes falling shut in a grimace. Remorse pooled, thick and viscous, in his gut. Doug’s sexual appeal had always been his greatest source of insecurity. Ste had worked so hard to convince Doug that sex with him was good enough, that his cock was big enough, that _he was enough_ and Ste wouldn’t rather be with Brendan or Noah or, hell, even Ally. To deny so was a low blow that Ste realized could be unforgivable. Doug would never forget Ste’s words. They would never come back from this conversation. He wished, not for the first time, that his life was a video game and he could try again from his last saved checkpoint.

“Shit,” Ste tried as panic began to choke him. He couldn’t lose Doug. Doug was all he had left. If he lost Doug, he’d have no one. If he lost Doug, he’d be alone. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Yeah, you did,” Doug said. He seemed to sag, all the wind falling from his sails, his blue eyes glistening. “It’s okay. I’ve always known that sex with me would never match up to Brendan.  I love you, though. I _love_ you, in a way that Brendan never could.”

“And I love you, Doug,” Ste assured him, because it was true. Doug had shown a more tender, gentler love for him than anyone else in his life had. Ste had never received care like that from his mum or stepdad. Amy’s love had been tainted by fear and the desperate need to please. Noah had been all about the nightlife and the gay scene - Ste got the impression that Noah cared more about how Ste looked upon his arm than anything deep or meaningful. And Brendan… Brendan had been consumed by fear. Not in the same way as Amy had, but in a way that was buried so deeply under his skin that it had sunken into his marrow, his very soul. Ste worried that Brendan would never be able to overcome that fear, but he knew that he had been trying to fight it. For Ste, he had been fighting it.

“But not as much as you love Brendan,” Doug finished for him. When Ste didn’t deny it, Doug huffed a self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah, I thought as much,” he said drily. His next words were a sudden yell that made Ste jump, “He doesn’t love you, Ste! I do!”

“He does, though,” Ste said. His voice was low, vulnerable, and he felt a stab of self-disgust for his own weakness, for his compulsion to argue the wrong point. “He does love me.”

Doug squeezed the bridge of his nose. “He’s not capable of love, Ste,” he said.

“You don’t know him,” Ste defended. His words would never make Doug stay; with every breath Ste only pushed him farther away, yet somehow it was worse to allow Doug to think of Brendan as a monster.

“Let me hazard a guess,” Doug said mockingly. “The first and only time he told you that he loved you, you were just about to leave him for good. But then he said the words - those three, magical little words - and you fell back into his bed without a second thought.”

_“I love ye, Steven.”_

_Ste froze, his hand on the doorknob. Slowly, he turned to face Brendan. His eyes filled with hope despite himself, his heart singing. Brendan’s own eyes were open and honest, vulnerable in a way that Brendan never let himself be._

_“That’s what I didn’t tell ye. I love ye.”_

At Ste’s telling silence, Doug gave a sombre nod. “I know him better than you think. He doesn’t love you, he’s obsessed and controlling. He doesn’t want you, but he doesn’t want anyone else to have you, either.”

“You knew the public Brendan,” Ste tried again. He didn’t know why he kept pushing the issue, trying to defend Brendan, to explain an enigma of a man, but he couldn’t make himself stop. It felt vitally important to him, somehow, that Doug knew. “When we were alone, he was different.”

Doug ran a hand through his hair. He had trimmed the sides again, making his haircut more like Ste’s. The thought gave Ste a wave of annoyance. “You’re right,” Doug said at last. “When you were alone, he was different. Instead of completely denying your existence, he only broke your ribs.”

“He’s not like that anymore,” Ste protested. “He hasn’t hit me in months. He wouldn’t do that now.”

“‘Now’?” Doug repeated incredulously. “Do you not see the ring on your finger? There is no ‘now’ between you and Brendan!”

Ste felt miserable. He felt equal amounts guilty and indignant. Doug was his husband, he knew that he shouldn’t be talking to him like this, making out that there was more between him and Brendan than there was, than there ever could be, but Doug knew what talking about Brendan did to Ste. Ste couldn’t just let him rub Brendan’s name through the mud without defending him, for the same reasons that Doug couldn’t help but to do it. It wasn’t fair on any of them - Ste, Doug, or Brendan - but Brendan had been the first man Ste had ever loved. He would always hold a large chunk of Ste’s heart.

“You know what?” Doug said tiredly. His eyes were closed, like the mere sight of Ste pained him. “I can’t keep doing this. I won’t spend the rest of my life wondering if I’m second best.”

“You’re n-”

Doug held up a hand, cutting off Ste’s plea. “I’m going to sleep at The Dog for a while. Come and find me when you’ve sorted out whether you want to be with me, or with him.”

Doug went to their bedroom, grabbing a rucksack and haphazardly stuffing it with random articles of clothing. Ste sank against the doorframe, watching him helplessly.

“I want you, Doug,” he tried. He was ashamed to find that, even to himself, his words sounded weak and uncertain.

“Yeah,” Doug gave him a hollow smile. He hiked the bag over his shoulder. “I’ll see you around, Ste.”

Ste’s rock, the one he had thought would never leave him, who would be there through thick and thin, in sickness and in health, walked away.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Ste turned to see Leah in the doorway to her room, her eyes wide and worried. Pink backpack straps were slung over her shoulders. Ste cursed himself as he immediately schooled his expression into something gentler. After anger management, he had promised that he would never yell in front of his kids; he knew firsthand what it did to a child to see their parental figures fight. “I didn’t mean to make Daddy Doug angry.”

Ste held out his arms and Leah tentatively approached, searching his expression carefully, before she flung herself into his hug. “It wasn’t your fault,” Ste reassured as he stroked her hair. She burrowed her nose into his neck and Ste felt it leave a small trail of wetness there. “Daddy Doug just doesn’t like Brendan, the man with the funny hair on his face, very much.”

Leah mulled that over. Eventually, with all of the endless curiosity a small child could muster, she asked, “Why not?”

Ste bit his lip against the threatening laugh. He didn’t want his daughter to think he was laughing at her. “Sometimes, it’s just hard to like Brendan,” he said truthfully.

“Why?”

Ste hesitated, floundering. How could he answer that? How could he begin to explain Brendan Brady to a five year old child? He waited too long; Leah pulled back to look at him, unsure if she was being snubbed.

“Brendan worries a lot about what other people think of him,” he began slowly, still hunting for the right words. “If he thinks that he’s showing them something he doesn’t like about himself, he gets scared and tries to hide it. Sometimes, he tries so hard to hide it that he lashes out and the people around him get hurt.”

Leah gasped, her eyes wide.

Ste hurried on to say, “But I don’t want you to be afraid of him, alright? He might get scary and shout sometimes, but he would never hurt you or your brother.”

“Has he hurt you?”

Ste faltered, unsure of how to answer, before he forged on. “Yes, but it was an accident and he felt really really bad after, like how you feel when you forget how big you are and shove Lucas too hard.”

“That’s why Daddy Doug doesn’t like him,” Lean nodded thoughtfully.

“Part of it,” Ste agreed.

Leah mulled it over a moment longer before she gave a decisive nod. “Can I see him now?” she asked.

Ste felt his lips curl into a bemused smile. “You’ve got school, remember?”

Folding her arms across her chest, Leah gave him a stern look. In that moment, she looked so much like Amy that Ste was honking out a laugh before he knew what hit him. Leah’s petulant scowl transformed into a triumphant grin.

~x~

_“Come on, Leah.” Brendan’s head lifted instinctively towards the voice. He was, as always, a moth to Steven’s flame. The younger man looked troubled; there was a heaviness to his movements that made Brendan want to rush into the Orangery, to grab Douglas by the scruff of his neck and shake him, to scream at him, “You’re supposed to take care of him!” until he got the message._

_“Daddy!” Steven’s daughter said with a bright grin, running towards him. Steven’s face lit up and Brendan felt something within his chest settle and purr contentedly._

_But something was wrong, terribly wrong._

_Leah stood frozen in the road, staring with wide eyes at the oncoming bus._

_Beside him, Cheryl gasped in delight, “Daddy?”_

_The stench of whiskey, stale sweat, and sandalwood flooded Brendan’s nose. He bent double, choking on it, his body beginning to tremble. Hot breath at the back of his neck. A large hand, deceptively gentle, smoothing down his stomach._

_“Leah!” Steven’s cry broke the spell over Brendan. Horrorstruck, he saw Steven lunge for his daughter, right into the bus’s path. “Leah!”_

_The bus roared closer. Brendan could see_ him _behind the wheel, his charming smile that fooled all, and his eyes, black pits that sucked the light until all that was left was pain and despair and isolation. He was speeding straight for Steven. If that bus hit him, Brendan knew that it would be the end of all hope; the world would lose every bit of light and goodness. Brendan’s feet were moving before his mind gave them the signal. Everything depended on him reaching Steven before that man did. “Steven!” he cried out, his voice high and desperate._

_He was too far away. Brendan knew it, and so did the man in the bus. He began to laugh, his voice deep and cruel, and the bus roared its agreement._

_Steven had reached Leah. He gathered her into his arms._

_Brendan was too far. He would never make it…_

_The bus gave a triumphant scream as it sensed it’s victory._

_“No!” Brendan yelled, his hands outstretched hopelessly. He stumbled as he tried to run faster than he could get his feet beneath him._

_The driver’s eyes bore into Brendan’s mockingly. He didn’t look away, even as the bus gave a sickening bounce, Steven’s yells cut off, and the colours of the world all faded away._

_Still keeping his eyes locked with Brendan’s, the driver climbed out of the bus and extended his arms. Cheryl dove into them, laughing happily as he embraced her, lifting her off of her feet. When they parted, he held out a hand, palm down. As Brendan watched, his heart in his throat, a small hand took the man’s. “Come, child,” the driver said. Lucas smiled trustingly, and he and Cheryl followed the driver into the bus. Only then did the man turn away and drive them out of sight._

_Brendan turned slowly towards the crumpled figure on the ground. He approached with a rising despair._

_One step._

_Two steps._

_Three._

_Four._

_He had been so close. Four steps and he could have saved him._

_Gravel dug sharply into his knees as he fell to the ground. Gently, he rolled the figure into his lap. Dark blonde hair. Prominent cheekbones. Pointed nose and full lips. He traced the features tenderly, but he did not know them. It wasn’t Steven. It_ couldn’t be _Steven. Not that twisted corpse, those glassy eyes, the ever-growing pool of red._

_It wasn’t Steven._

_It wasn’t._

_He could feel a strangled sob rising in his throat._

_It wasn’t Steven._

_The stench of whiskey, sweat, and sandalwood filled his nose._

_Brendan screamed._

~x~

Brendan jerked awake, gasping for a breath of fresh air. Sandalwood lingered in his nostrils; the monsters of decades past shaking hands with the demons of today. He pressed a hand against his chest, grounding himself in the ache of bruising. He had gotten to him in time. Steven was alive. He was fine, safe at home with his kids and his new husband. He was safe.

The smell wouldn't go away. Now that his panic had abated, sandalwood was thick and cloying with every breath.

“Awake then, are ye?” a familiar gravelly drawl greeted him. Brendan's eyes snapped open. Slowly, he turned his head to face the wolf perched casually in the chair by his bed, smirking as if he had any right to be there.

Adrenaline jolted through Brendan's veins, hammering though his heart and rushing in his lungs. Distantly, he heard the heart monitor twitter in distress. He was in his bed, hugging his pillow, listening to the creaking on the stairs, screaming on the inside and knowing that no one would hear him, no one would come, no one would believe him if they did.

“Jesus, Da, some warning next time?” Cheryl laughed merrily. “Ye near made the poor man jump out of his skin.”

Brendan forced himself to calm. He wasn't there, in the holiday home with the white bedspread and white lace curtains, with the groaning of wooden steps beneath heavy feet and the slow scream of a door hinge. He was in the hospital, his chest and his arm ached, and Steven was alive.

“It's good to keep a man on his toes,” Seamus said with a grin. Brendan read the menace in his smile, though he knew that Cheryl never would. “Keep ye on your guard and maybe ye won't stroll into any more buses.”

“Daddy!” Cheryl admonished with a laugh.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Brendan asked levelly.

Giving him a disappointed look, Cheryl sighed. “He’s here because I called him. He’s our da, Bren, he deserves to know when his only son’s undergone major surgery.”

“I know we haven't always seen eye-to-eye, son, but I'm here and I'm trying.”

Brendan studiously ignored him. “Ye weren't so bothered when I was in an explosion and his mother was lying a few meters below me in the morgue,” he hissed at Cheryl.

“I called him,” Cheryl defended, “of course I did! It wasn't his fault that ye were in a coma; he stayed as long as he could get away from the business.”

Brendan blanched, thrown by the knowledge that Seamus had been there when he was defenseless, at his most vulnerable, and that he had been completely unaware of it. His stomach lurched and he forcefully swallowed back bile - hospital food was bad enough the first time round and he refused to be seen as weak in front of this man. He wasn't that eight year old boy anymore. He was a grown man. He was Brendan Brady. And he had dealt with men like Seamus all his life. He was just another alpha male.

“So how long are ye staying this time?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“As long as ye can put up with me,” Seamus gave Cheryl a smile which she returned brightly. “It's been too long since the three of us have been together, hasn't it?”

Brendan gritted his teeth, his fingers numb inside his white-knuckled fist.

_You're fine, Brendan. Ye can do this. Same old, same old._

“Hiyya,” a falsely bright voice called. Brendan's eyes snapped to the doorway, his heart sinking even as his stomach swooped. Sure enough, Steven stood in the doorway, Leah holding his hand and Lucas on his hip. He grinned uncertainty, eyes flicking from Cheryl to Seamus to Brendan, taking in the tension between the two men. “Er, is this a bad time?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to give a decent characterization of Doug, but I have a feeling that I was way off base. I tend to see him in the show as self-righteous and a bit hypocritical but with a good heart, so I tried to portray him that way. My apologies to the Doug lovers if I got him wrong. 
> 
> Thanks for continuing to read!

**Author's Note:**

> Still a WIP, so we'll see where my keyboard takes it.


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